


Fitting Room

by Kass



Series: The Sentinel fanworks [41]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, mall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-07
Updated: 2008-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-02 01:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/pseuds/Kass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things go awry at the mall. (Pop-tart. Plotless. But hopefully kinda fun.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fitting Room

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I realize the premise is a little dicey, but relax. This is a twinkie of a story. A poptart. A plotless romp. Take it in the spirit in which it was intended.
> 
> Thanks to Alanna and Justine for inspiration and beta-reads.

The box was wrapped in brown paper that Jim said smelled faintly like clove smoke. The stamps were Indonesian, which was baffling because Blair didn't think Naomi had planned to be anywhere near that far south this year. But the handwriting was definitely hers, and the gift showed her sense of style: a long-sleeved round-collared shirt, woven in stripes of blue and what Blair called purple. Jim insisted on calling it pink.

The envelope inside said, "For Jim. Happy Birthday!"

"It's nowhere near my birthday, Chief."

Blair shrugged, folding the paper for the recycling bin. "Maybe she thought the mail would take longer."

As he read the card, Jim started chuckling. Blair leaned over to see why:

_Jim sweetie, _

_ I know this may or may not be your style. It would look so lovely on you! But if it's not your thing, go get yourself something at Eddie Bauer or the Big &amp; Tall or somewhere you prefer. _

_ All my love. _

_ \--N._

In his other hand, Jim held the fifty dollar bill that had been enclosed in the envelope.

Blair grinned, flopping down on the couch beside his partner. "Do I see a mall trip in our future?"

Jim looked over at him, his expression one of schooled surprise. "I don't do the mall, Sandburg. You remember the perfume thing—"

"--That was eons ago, man. Besides. If I go without you--I can see it now--you're gonna hate whatever I pick out. Or it'll be the wrong size."

"I can pick something from the catalogue?"

Blair shook his head.

"You can take one of my shirts with you?"

Blair stretched his arms over his head, enjoying the feel of the stretch and the awareness that Jim was watching how the movement exposed a crescent of belly. "Don't even try to get out of this. We're going to the mall."

* * *

The mall with Jim was fun for two reasons. One was that people stared. Like, seriously stared. Jim got looked up and down, and since they were obviously together, so did Blair. Blair liked that.

The other reason, which he would never in a million years have admitted, was that the mall was one of the only places where he got to feel like a guide anymore. Jim pretty much didn't zone these days, didn't need help with his senses. Except at the mall, where he was occasionally in danger of overload. And Blair liked dipping back into that feeling of watching Jim's back, protecting the protector from his own tribe.

Not that Jim didn't need him in other ways. No--Blair knew he was a fine partner, both ways the word signified, and he knew Jim knew it too.

He just liked getting to do the guide thing now and again.

* * *

Getting lunch at the food court was the first mistake. It was a rainy day, so the mall was crowded--and the acoustics were terrible. The high glass ceilings seemed designed to bounce sound back, and there was nothing to absorb the noises of conversation and clattering trays and jangling cash registers except the people who were making the noise in the first place.

Midway through his burrito, apropos of nothing, Jim said, "I'm having trouble picking your voice out of the crowd."

"Huh." Blair thought about that. "Even with me sitting right here across from you?"

Jim nodded. "I have to focus pretty hard on your mouth."

Blair licked his lips suggestively and waggled an eyebrow. Jim rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his tray of Taco Bell.

* * *

The second mistake was popping into the Body Shop. Blair was looking for unscented massage oil, but everything on the shelf had already been contaminated with droppersful of "essences." ("Essence, my ass," Jim muttered.)

Then some moron lifted the lid on the bottle of rose oil and waved it around. That was it: Jim was coughing and sputtering and they were backing out of the store as fast as they could.

* * *

The third mistake wasn't Blair's fault; that was his story and he was sticking to it. How could he have known that KSKD (Cascade's "urban" station) was broadcasting a live rap show from the atrium outside Sears? Hundreds of kids, baggy pants cinched around their hips, crowded the tiled hallway, shouting and jumping around apparently at random. The guy rapping had a good sense of rhythm, but the amps were cranked, and his plosive consonants were slightly painful even to Blair's ears. A high-pitched buzz of feedback overlay everything.

By the time they pushed their way into the next section of mall, Jim looked vacant.

His eyes didn't focus until Blair moved right up next to him, lips almost touching his ear, and called his name.

"I'm...sinking." Quietly.

"Look, the store's right over there. I'll put my hand on your arm to steady you."

Jim looked dubious.

"Trust me. We're almost there. Besides, we're not gonna make it this far and not actually accomplish our mission."

Jim conceded the point. Blair figured he just really didn't want to get dragged there again anytime soon.

* * *

The Big &amp; Tall store was slightly less chaotic than the mall proper, but only slightly. A lot of people were milling around--at least twenty, looked like--and one couple had a crying baby in a stroller. Plus, the sound system was playing Erasure, which was a little too perky for Blair's tastes (not to mention Jim's).

One of the racks in the middle of the store was filled with long-sleeved shirts and corduroys in rich colors: burgundy, forest green, navy blue. Blair moved in that direction; might as well get the shopping over with quickly. "How about these?"

There was no answer. Jim was staring into the weave of a pair of corduroy pants, totally oblivious to the commotion.

Shit.

"C'mon, Jim," Blair murmured, moving close enough to put his hand on Jim's arm again. "Come back to me. You okay in there?"

No response. A slightly stout blond guy pushed his way in to check sizes on the rust-colored shirts. Okay: think fast. Voice wasn't working, basic touch wasn't working...?

They had to get to someplace with less sensory input. Fast, Blair grabbed a pair of pants and coordinating shirt and tugged Jim's elbow. Jim followed him, eyes vacant, to the line of men in front of the dressing rooms.

"Gentlemen, there's a sale on tank tops in the back if you're interested." The sales guy was dressed in army-green pants and a Hawaiian shirt that made Blair wince. His haircut was hip, he had earrings up one ear, and he wore a headset (what, so he could get instructions from some hidden supervisor?). He looked Jim up and down, then gave Blair a little sigh.

Ordinarily, the display of jealousy would have been a kick, but Blair was too focused on Jim's zone. He beckoned to the sales guy, whose nametag said Tony.

"Listen, Tony...my buddy's not feeling real well. Any chance we could get into a fitting room and try these on so I can get him outta here?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "There's a lot of guys in line ..."

Blair waited.

"Yeah, okay. Lemme unlock the handicapped fitting room."

With one of the keys on the ring at his belt, Tony unlocked the room all the way on the right and led Blair and Jim to the door. Blair did his best to ignore the line they were cutting in front of.

"Thanks, man," he said, pushing the door shut behind them.

The room featured a leather-covered bench at one end and a full-length mirror at the other. It had no ceiling--none of the fitting rooms did; the ceiling of the store was several feet higher than the fitting room walls--but the door reached all the way to the ground. Blair moved Jim over by the bench.

"Jim. You with me?"

No reaction.

Blair tried running a hand over Jim's arm, tried touching his face, but to no avail.

How to break through Jim's loss of affect? How to make contact? There was only one thing he could think of. Which could be kind of fun, assuming it woke Jim up.

And if it didn't...well. He'd worry about that if it didn't work.

"What am I waiting for?" he murmured, more to himself than to Jim, and knelt at Jim's feet to unzip his khakis.

Still no reaction.

Maneuvering Jim's soft cock out of his boxers was a little tricky, but Blair got there.

Still no reaction.

He slid Jim's cock into his mouth and started sucking, gently, closing his eyes. _C'mon, Jim_, he half-thought, half-prayed.

As Jim's erection stiffened in his mouth, he heard Jim's quick gasp overhead. He pulled back and looked up: jackpot. Jim was awake again, and hard as a rock.

"Sandburg, what the," Jim began, his voice pitched low.

"You've been zoned for ages." Matter-of-factly. "Hey, it worked. So be quiet."

Before Jim could say another word, Blair opened his mouth and took Jim in again.

Now that the zone was over and he could stop worrying, he was pretty excited by the public blowjob. They'd never done anything like this before, and damn, was it hot. Feeling Jim in his mouth, hearing Jim's little puffs of gasped breath, knowing they were surrounded by people.

People who were fortunately making a lot of noise. Like the guy in the fitting room next to theirs, who was asking his girlfriend what she thought of whatever he was trying on.

"It's okay, I guess." She sounded dubious. "Do you really need another one in gray?"

Someone else nearby was having trouble getting his door to latch, and was closing it repeatedly. Bam, click, squeak.

Blair ran his tongue over Jim's dick and Jim's hands tightened in his hair, half-pulling and half-caressing, the tactile equivalent of a moan. God, this was good.

"Are you boys okay in there?" Tony's voice was loud right outside their door. "You need another size of anything?"

Blair pulled back and took a deep breath. "Thanks, Tony, we're fine." Hoping his voice sounded normal.

Jim's eyes were desperate. He was that close. Made Blair half-hard himself.

The second Blair took him in again, he came, breathing hard and fast. A few seconds later Jim pulled away and sank onto the bench. Blair wiped his mouth and grinned.

"You wanna try those on while we're here?"

Jim flipped him the finger, but it wasn't very convincing. It's hard for a man who's just come his brains out to look convincingly annoyed about anything. Even the mall.

* * *

The corduroys were the wrong size, but the shirt was perfect: a soft, thick weave that suited Jim, plus a rich green that would suit Naomi, next time she was in town. Once she got over chiding him for not wearing the original gift. The prospect didn't bother Blair, since he figured he'd be inheriting the striped shirt.

As they stepped out of the fitting room, Tony winked. "You boys come back anytime."

Blair nodded absently and steered them towards the line for the cash register, which was mercifully short.

"Didn't know exhibitionism was your thing." Jim's voice was low in his ear, almost a purr. Blair resisted the urge to melt against his partner. "I can think of other ways to indulge that won't involve videotape."

"What?" The word came out surprisingly high-pitched.

Jim jerked his head slightly towards the sign behind the cash register:

_Shoplifting is illegal! These fitting rooms are monitored by videocamera._

"No wonder Tony was so entertained," Blair muttered. Half-appalled, half-amused.

Jim paid, got their change, and steered them out of the store and towards the nearest mall exit.

"Our car's at the other end."

"We're walking around the outside."

"Jim, it's raining."

"I'm not walking through this hellhole again."

"Jim—"

"Videotape, Sandburg. Don't push your luck."

Despite himself, Blair snickered.

"You have any idea what would happen if that tape ever—"

"Hey, look, you were zoned, okay? It worked."

Jim opened the door to the outside and held it. With a sigh, Blair walked out into the rain. It wasn't raining that hard, actually.

They walked a few paces. "Don't I even get a 'thanks'?"

Jim snorted.

They were about thirty feet further when he relented, like Blair knew he would. "Wait 'til we get to the truck."

Blair whooped and started running. He'd be soaked and winded by the time he got to the far parking lot, but he was too happy to care.


End file.
